


What's Your Angle?

by kirakirababy



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Gay, Gay Sex, Infidelity, Jealousy, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakirababy/pseuds/kirakirababy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can't imagine the jealousy you must feel<br/>when I kiss him instead of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's Your Angle?

We moved together.  
Twisting relentlessly in the dark  
licking each other's wounds  
at acute angles angels triangles.  
  
Our silent desperation was punctuated by your shuddering breath  
released softly in short, sharp gasps.  
Your pained hisses,  
tangled in bitten lips, saliva and bleach-blond hair,  
added an element of significance to the slow roll of hips and the headboard creaks and moans.  
Clinging to each other for comfort,  
we were surrounded by the chill of our  
self-imposed,  
inescapable loneliness  
that filled every corner of the room.  
You pressed your face lazily to my chest.  
Open mouth kisses just below my collarbone.  
And asked if you could stay the night.  
  
“So what's your angle?” I asked, the sound of my own voice abrasive in the gentle story of a chorus of crickets drifting in with the breeze through the open window.  
I took the final drag of our shared cigarette and dropped the butt in a half empty glass of wine.  
  
“Hm?” You stretched softly and sighed when  
I touched the cool inside of your wrists  
kissed the delicate tendons and subtle pulse  
and let the smoke ghost thickly along my tongue and your skin.  
Bit down gently and met your eyes.  
Pupils still darkened,  
but lonely and unusual  
the expression was one of  
illuminated chaos.  
  
“With him.”  
  
You smiled widely enough that delicate lines and thick wrinkles formed around your eyes and nose.  
Smiled with white teeth in white sheets.  
Smiled as if to say,  
without saying  
  
‘I can't imagine the jealousy you must feel  
when I kiss him instead of you.’  
  
Instead you pressed your open palm to my lips and said, “Maybe I just have a soft spot for a pleasant disposition.”  
I smirked, running my fingers slowly up your forearm and back to your wrist, grasping tightly enough that you shuddered softly and gasped just under your breath. I enjoyed the subtle shift of your hips that you fought so hard to hide, “Liar.”  
I know just how you look when you lie.  
The slight pursing of lips and a furrowed brow.  
It’s the same look I gave you when  
I told you about that casual fling  
with a girl I barely knew  
and who barely knew me back.  
It’s the same look you give when  
you tell me you still love me.  
You shrugged, golden hair swaying sensually around your face when you murmured against my forehead that, “you look so beautiful when you’re angry.” the statement faded into a whisper and press of lips, “I mean it.”


	2. Blackbird Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on; there is sixpence for you: let's have a song”

  
You puked until your stomach was empty  
splashed a glamorous spatter of Cranberry Sunrise across old silk porcelain.  
Rivulets of cranberry red mingled with sweat and fell in large, diluted drops from your chin.  
And when you kissed me goodnight there was a lingering taste of sour yeast in your mouth  
barely disguised by the tang of toothpaste at the corner of your lips.  
You whispered against my hair as you drifted off to sleep  
that you felt like shit and then that,  
“everything looks perfect when it's spinning.”  
and as usual, I had to agree with you.  
After all  
you always looked the most stunning when the only thing holding you down seemed to be gravity.  
Once again I found myself in the familiar position of  
watching eyelash shadows as they stretched across the moonlight paleness of your face  
as I began  
counting  
              1  
                          2  
                                          counting out  
                          3  
              4  
the number of slow, steady breaths  
it took to fade.  
  
 _We started as a pause.  
An intake of breath.  
An impatient waiting._  
  
I caught sight of you through the large windows of the radio station.  
With small explosions of blue sky and the trailing smoke of white clouds reflecting off the surface of the glass, and an absurd amount of people rushing by...  
it was something like a living panorama.  
Crouched down and balanced precariously on your heels between  
the spotted shade of a boulevard tree  
and a  
bicycle rack.  
Holding a cell phone between shaking fingers and a taking drag after drag of the cigarette held between clenched teeth.  
I remember feeling something close to sorry for you  
blond hair whipping about your face,  
pale and obviously upset,  
your shoulders draped in a set of threadbare attributions.  
Messy  
Confusing  
Convenient  
Imperfect  
None of them your own.  
As you lifted your hand to your brow in a sort of mock-salute  
to shade your eyes from the trembling brightness of the setting sun  
I met your warm, almond colored eyes through the thick pane of glass between us,  
and watched his name and a string of fuckyouprofanity fall easily from your lips into the mouthpiece of the phone.  
I wanted so badly to breathe you a message  
written in condensation on the glass  
for you not to worry;  
that I knew  
you were the best thing I would ever lose.  
  
 _We were something of a  
theatrical  
entremet.  
Nothing more than a lavish form of entertainment between courses._  
  
Your eyes were luridly made up,  
and your artfully tousled blond hair would have made you seem young if it weren't  
coiled between my fingers and causing you to shudder so exquisitely.  
The way you said my name,  
your voice sounding soft and charmed and sort of fuzzy against the pounding pulse of my neck,  
like something covered in a quiet layer of dust  
or a thin veil of memory...  
reminded me of  
an old, warped cassette struggling  
to play the degenerating magnetic tape.  
In haunting bursts of echoing sound.  
I wondered idly if it was the rockstarromantic in you  
or just the Japanese aesthetic,  
but you loved the idea of everything falling to pieces  
and gave off the distinct impression  
that you were always in the process of fading away.  
  
 _What you were really good at  
was playing god with other people's lives.  
You never could keep your fingers from the pie._  
  
“He asked about you last night.”  
“Oh?”  
“Do you think he...” You voice trailed off into your cup of morning coffee  
and your eyes seemed to focus on something far off in the distance.  
“Yeah.”  
“Does it bother you?”  
“Not as much as you'd like it to.”  
You smirked and playfully flipped me off while clutching your mug,  
but your eyes flashed as angrily as  
the cherry of your cigarette.  
  
 _Looking at it now... it seems somewhat_  
unpalatable.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at:  
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/30936.html
> 
> http://sciencesaves.livejournal.com/31057.html


End file.
